


in which the CIA Paris branch might consider giving its employees a pay rise

by janie_tangerine



Category: Bastille Day (2016)
Genre: (IN THEORY), Fluff and Crack, Idiots in Love, M/M, POV Outsider, Post-Canon, Secret Relationship, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, in which poor tom's life sucks and these two are obvious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:44:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8269684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: Tom stares at the form.

What the hell does he even write on there? Sir, I wouldn’t worry about it, since the last time we debriefed they looked like they just wanted to be done with it so they could make out in some storage room, and I know it happened because one of the maids ran into them at some point and saw fit to notify me?
Sir, given that Briar’s Paris address is the apartment below Mason’s I’m sure they aren’t planning on stabbing each other in the back?
Sir, they’re both completely whipped and they don’t even realize that the entire office knows, and that the entire staff also does since the maid didn’t keep that information to herself, either, I think we’re covered?

  Tom really, really fucking hates paperwork.

or: in which Tom isn't paid enough for his job and their entire office knows that Briar and Mason are in a relationship.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was always a tumblr prompt for an anon who wanted _They really try to keep their relationship a secret, but it's really not to, like, anyone (bonus points if it's from Outsider POV)_. For anyone who doesn't remember the name, Tom's the guy who was evaluating Briar in the beginning and was pals with Karen - poor soul, that man. *cough*
> 
> Anyway: this movie doesn't belong to me still (too bad I'd make a sequel) but for once I ACTUALLY CAME UP WITH THE TITLE and it shows because it sucks, THIS IS WHY I STICK TO SONGS MOST OF THE TIME.

It’s not that Tom envies Briar or anything.

Hell, he would never envy that man under any circumstance, he’s not that kind of masochist, but maybe the fact that he doesn’t have to do  _the fucking paperwork_ all the time might be the only thing. For that matter, it’s profoundly unfair that Briar never has to do paperwork for his own missions. But never mind it, Tom wishes his current problem was the paperwork.

His problem is that he has to write down the _assessments_ regarding how Briar and Mason have been faring in the last six months.

Because of course the powers that be in Washington want assessments twice per year.

And he has to write them, given that he’s their direct superior and everything. Not that either of them give a damn, or they wouldn’t make his life so much more complicated than it needs be.

The form sits pristine in front of him, mocking Tom from the computer screen.

_How is their teamwork faring._

_What are the results of the last psych evaluation._

_Can they be trusted to not betray each other by this point._

All put in way more formal terms, but that’s about what they want to know.

Ah, if only they knew.

The teamwork is faring better than anyone ever could have imagined – Tom might have a lot of paperwork to deal with, and those two assholes can’t be trusted to ever do anything according to the book (hell, if one out of the two of them can be trusted with it is _Mason_ , which says everything about it really), but they do get the job done, nothing to complain about that specifically. It’s faring even too well, maybe, because –

Right, the psych evaluation.

He looks at the files on his desk. He can’t fucking believe that Briar’s latest evaluation said something along the lines of _he actually has started showing some empathy like a more or less healthy human being_ , and that while he still has Issues with the capital I when it comes to being reckless and generally not giving a fuck about following protocol, _it shows signs of definitive improvement_. The psychologist even added a note about _partnerships being perhaps to be encouraged when it comes to agent Briar_.

Mason’s evaluation says that he still has a shitton of Other Issues with the capital I, but at the same time that it’s not the kind of that interferes with the job and actually _having one_ seems to be of uttermost help when it comes to his godforsaken baggage.

But that’s not the point. He looks at the last part of the form. He wants to laugh.

_Can they be trusted not to betray each other._

Tom wants to laugh.

Oh, if only HQ _knew_.

Thing is, those two have been trying to be subtle for a long while. Too bad that they are definitely not subtle – or better, Mason can be, but Briar is the least subtle bastard in existence and when they’re a unit it tends to rub off on Mason, not the contrary, and it’s absolutely painfully obvious that they’re fucking.

Or at least they’re _definitely_ fucking. Tom doesn’t know if there’s more going on, but admittedly, given that whenever they debrief Mason sends Briar looks that are bordering on adoring, and that Briar _sometimes_ smiles at the guy, there’s a good chance that it’s not a no strings attached thing.

He still doesn’t know what to make of Briar smiling at the same person more than once in one hour.

He also doesn’t know what to make of Mason actually being good at the darned job – honest, no one with that background should be any decent at it, and instead he is, and that’s an entire other problem.

Tom stares at the form.

What the hell does he even write on there? _Sir, I wouldn’t worry about it, since the last time we debriefed they looked like they just wanted to be done with it so they could make out in some storage room, and I know it happened because one of the maids ran into them at some point and saw fit to notify me?_

_Sir, given that Briar’s Paris address is the apartment below Mason’s I’m sure they aren’t planning on stabbing each other in the back?_

_Sir, they’re both completely whipped and they don’t even realize that the entire office knows, and that the entire staff also does since the maid didn’t keep that information to herself, either, I think we’re covered?_

Tom really, really fucking hates paperwork.

He sighs, puts away his glasses and figures he’s allowed to grab coffee from the machine in the hallway before attempting to fill the damn form.

Except that Mason’s at the machine already.

“Still here?” Tom asks, moving next to him and waiting his turn. “Debriefing is done.”

“Yeah, but S – agent Briar’s in the infirmary. He was going to leave but I might have convinced him to get his wrist checked, it got a bad blow.”

“Right. So you’re getting yourself coffee while he’s over there?”

“Nah, I had enough already, I’m bringing him some.”

He even sounds fond as he speaks. Jesus, Joseph and Mary. He’s so  _obvious_ , Tom doesn’t even know why they bother trying to keep it hidden. Also, since when Briar actually goes to medical when someone tells him to?

Never mind that Mason obviously knows how Briar takes his coffee, from the looks of it.

The machine beeps. Mason grabs the coffee.

“Well, tell Briar that if he needs a day off he can have it,” Tom says, moving in Mason’s place.

“Oh, he’s going to take it – I mean, I’m sure he’ll consider it. Have a good evening.”

Tom waves at Mason as he goes back to medical and pushes fifty euro cents in the slot, trying to not start laughing hysterically.

He’s going to take it. He’ll make Briar take it, more likely.

Tom drinks his shitty coffee in one go, throws it in the trash and starts composing in his head an appropriate answer that will state that agents Briar and Mason are a good team and they can definitely be trusted without actually making HQ understand that they’re  _fraternizing on the job_ , and decides that he’s paid nowhere near enough for this.

 

End.


End file.
